


Just One More Regret

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Category: Highlander
Genre: GFY, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 02:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just one more of a thousand small regrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One More Regret

**Author's Note:**

> Five drabbles from the Bronze Age with the Four Horsemen to after the events in the episode _Revelation 6:8_.

The clash of bronze swords against each other is familiar in the camp, not drawing any attention to the two who circle each other, eyes gleaming and smiles that echo each other with an uncanny similarity. A past-time that they know will end with them streaked in drying blood in the dim light of a tent, and another clash of wills.

Neither one willing to give an inch that isn't taken, moving in a deadly dance of bronze and sweat and blood. Prelude to something less deadly, but no less viciously contested. It is what they are, always have been.

* * *

It's not often anymore than he catches Methos unaware, that he actually catches up to him. The swords are steel now, heavy things meant to bite through the armor of the mounted soldiers of the day. The sound is different from the familiar tune of bronze, brighter and more deadly.

He doesn't fight fair, neither of them do, and in the end, there are memories of blood and sweat once more, and a knife left in his chest that leaves him gritting his teeth against the pain to pull it out. He knows he'll eventually catch up with Methos again.

* * *

Late on nights when he's alone, he lets himself remember the high of a day spent riding with his brothers, swords washed red over bronze, cruel laughter shared. The raids and the women that blur together, and the days in camp that stand out bright and sharp.

It's something he almost regrets leaving behind, but he can't let himself be caught again. The clash of sword against sword, the taste of flesh under his teeth, the play of muscles under his hand. All has to be left behind if he's going to survive in this changing world. All of it.

* * *

When he sees Methos below him fighting with Silas, he can't believe what he's seeing. The grim determination to win, to kill a man he once called brother, that is so clear on the familiar face. Knowing that Methos set this up infuriates him, and he fights with renewed fury, determined to survive this encounter.

He won't be kind if he wins, he won't allow the blood and sex and familiar games to satisfy him this time. Won't allow Methos to escape as he has before, won't allow this to be the end. It can't be the end. Not now.

* * *

Burying the past isn't as easy as burying the body of the man he has loved, in some fashion, for over three millennia. Even when he was trying to avoid Kronos, he still had his regrets in doing so. One of those thousand regrets he told MacLeod included Cassandra. Just not in the fashion he's certain MacLeod expects.

He regrets allowing her to get under his skin, letting her become attached to him. He regrets not watching when Kronos wanted to share, not taking more care to ensure what had happened wouldn't.

Just one more of a thousand small regrets.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 16 June 2009 in rounds_of_kink on LiveJournal.


End file.
